Battlestar Orphan Blacktica
by captain-jaybird
Summary: Sarah and Helena are twin Viper pilots with some issues boiling under the surface, Tony is a mechanic with a secret, Alison is an officer with a little drinking problem, Cosima is a scientist stuggling to crack the cylon genetic code, Delphine's an undercover agent, and Cal's a freedom fighter on Caprica. Welcome to…Battlestar Orphan Blacktica.
1. Chapter 1

"Frak."

Viper pilot Sarah Manning, call sign Black Orphan, frantically pulls her rudder and toggles her boosters to stabilize her ship after getting clipped by one of the cylon raiders. Tony, her mechanic, is not going to be happy.

"Are you alright?" fellow pilot Helena asks, picking off the raider that had shot Sarah. Her technique is less elegant than her twin sister's, but no one can say it's not brutally efficient.

"Just fine Meathead," Sarah radios back. "Come on, let's get these arse-holes."

"I still do not like that callsign," Helena says sullenly. "I wish Lieutenant Thrace had not called me this."

"Too late now. Get ready to flank me, yeah?"

Together, the sisters fly towards a formation of five raiders. When they get within range, Sarah executes a flip and targets the leader, while Helena sprays out cover fire behind her, hitting two ships. Sarah's shot gets the leader, and the ensuing explosion catches another raider, which spins out and destroys the last ship.

"Shit yeah!" Sarah cheers. "Time to go home, Meathead."

"I am coming, Black Orphan."

"We've got to get rid of your Gemenon accent," Sarah mentions as they fly in. "I know you ended up getting raised by some of those religious nuts after we were separated, but you don't wanna be linked to _them_."

"Do not mock the gods of Kobol, sestra," Helena says darkly. "They give me the light."

Sarah sighs. "Whatever, Meathead. Eventually you're gonna run out of blonde hair dye." Radio silence follows as the pair lands their ships on the hanger deck.

"What'd you do to my ship, Manning?" Tony yells as Sarah hops out of her fighter. "I just gave her a freakin' tune-up!"

"I saved your ass from those raiders," Sarah replies. "Just like the last five times."

"You can shove that and your fancy Picon military accent, sir," Tony grumbles. "Gods, I wish Sammy were here."

"I'm sorry. I heard he was one of the ones we lost when we vented the ship when they cylons first attacked."

"Yeah, well, the world keeps on turning." Tony pauses. "Or doesn't, since the toasters slagged them all."

The pilot claps him on the shoulder. "They really frakked us mate. But I'm all for giving them hell. It's only been a month, yeah? We'll find Earth, like the commander said, and we'll start over." She stops for a second. "I guess I was one of the lucky ones. I had no parents to lose."

"Major Sadler practically raised you," Tony reminds her. "She got you into the academy. And your brother Felix was bartending on Cloud 9, so he made it too."

Sarah laughs. "He was so sore when she moved him to this rustbucket to be an officer's assistant. She said she wanted to replaced lost personal, but I think she just wants us both where she can keep an eye on us."

"And then there's Helena," Tony says, jerking his head towards the blonde girl watching them, obviously waiting for Sarah. "I can't believe she tracked you all the way into the service, and managed to join up herself."

"We were only four when we were separated," Sarah remembers. "But she never stops going on about our connection, or that the gods sent her here to do their work. They really got to her on Gemenon."

"Yeah, to be honest with you she gives me the creeps," Tony says quietly. "But she's almost as good a pilot as you, and you're almost as good as Starbuck. She's always wrecking my ships too."

"Speaking of wrecks, I've got to go give my report to Captain Hendrix."

"It's a good thing that one doesn't fly. She takes after Colonel Tigh."  
Sarah nods, snorting a little. "Come on Helena," she calls. "We've got officer bullshit to do."

The twins leave, and Tony shakes his head. "Pilots," he mutters under his breath. "They're a different breed, aren't they?"

…

Captain Alison Hendrix takes her job very seriously. Compiling all the flight reports and analyzing the cylons' attacks for patterns is of utmost importance, and she has a very exact filing system. Or rather she would, if her new assistant Felix Dawkins wasn't so good at mucking everything up.

"Felix!" Alison barks. "Those papers go in file 14C, not 24A."

The tall, lanky man rolls his eyes. "Yessir, Captain. Gods, I'm a bloody bartender, not a secretary."

"You're not a bartender anymore," Alison reprimands him.

"Oh really?" Felix drawls. "Then what do you call the two drinks you had me pour you earlier?"

"A way to get the creative juices flowing. It takes out of the box thinking to analyze machines," the brunette sniffs. "Don't be insubordinate."

"Speaking of…" Felix breaks into a grin. "Sarah!"

"Lieutenant Manning," Alison corrects, and then turns to the pilot. "I presume you have your report for me?"

"Right here, fresh outta the ship's log." Sarah looks bored. "Helena's got hers too."

"Sir." Alison eyes her. "Helena's got hers too, sir."

"Yes sir, absolutely sir, I'll never forget again, yeah, sir."

Alison knows she's being mocked, but chooses not to engage. Manning's twin won't stop staring at her and she finds it unsettling. "Well, give them here. Be quick about it."

Both pilots hand them over. Helena still appears to be looking at her, unblinking. "What do you want, Lieutenant?" Alison snaps.

"You do not like my sestra."

"Officers don't let their opinions color their judgements," Alison says shortly. "You're both dismissed."

"See ya later, Fee," Sarah throws over her shoulder as the sisters leave.

"Ta!" he returns, and Alison groans internally. She needs another drink.

…

On a different deck of the ship, Cosima sighs, running a hand through her hair. "It doesn't make sense," she says. "Baltar's cylon detector should have worked."

"Perhaps it is impossible to tell," Delphine, her lab partner, answers. "They could be any one of us."

"I _know_ there's a way to do this." Cosima is adamant. "I'm an expert in evolutionary biology, and the cylons have to be different somehow. You're with me on this, right?" She looks up at Delphine beseechingly, who tells herself her heart doesn't skip a beat. That would be contrary to her mission.

"I will help you," the blonde says. "If you are really set on this." Delphine would rather be closer to this than not. That way, if the scientist gets to be too much on the right track, she can sabotage the project. Cosima is highly intelligent, for a human. It fascinates the cylon woman.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" her partner asks. _Is she blushing?_ "Not, uh, not that I mind, but it's different, you know."

"Ah, I was just, um, lost in thought," Delphine replies. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Cosima answers, and steps closer. She nudges Delphine with her shoulder. "Come on, we've got some crazy science to do."

"Yes," Delphine says. "Let's do the crazy science." After that, the two women lapse into a comfortable silence. Delphine titrates chemicals to make DNA-isolating solutions, and Cosima takes a sample of her own hair.

"I know I'm human," she says, "so we can use me as the control test subject. Guess I'll get to sequence my own DNA."

"No surprises." Delphine smiles.

"Well, I hope not. I could always find out I had some terrible genetic disease."

"Don't joke like that." Delphine covers Cosima's hand with her own. "It is not funny."

Cosima is definitely blushing now. "No more jokes," she says, a little raspy. "Just science."

The taller woman nods before remembering to remove her hand. Oddly, she seems to miss the warmth of Cosima's. _Curiouser and curiouser…_

...

Cal Morrison wakes with a start on Caprica. Sleep is little and far in between in the resistance, but he doesn't feel especially grateful for it right now. It's the nightmares again. He always dreams the same thing. He dies, only to wake up screaming and covered in fluid, with a thousand copies of himself watching. It's so vivid he could swear he's lived it.

"Up and at 'em Cal," Andrew Cooper says. "Anders has got a raid planned for today."

"A raid? On what?"

"A supply building. We're running low on anti-radiation meds and water purifiers."

Cal nods. It always feels like they're running on borrowed time. But he'd follow Sam Anders anywhere. He had been his captain for pyramidball, and now he is his commander for the resistance. Still, it's funny. Cal never seems to feel the effects of the radiation poisoning as badly as the rest of them.

"Let's do it," he says, grabbing his rifle. "I hate those frakking toasters."

"We move out at first light," Cooper says. "Be ready."

"I am," Cal answers. He's been through hell, and it makes him nervous to think of this raid. He's only human, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_The light, the light, you are the light._ The voices are whispering all around her. She's swimming in darkness, glowing, the wings carved into her back coming to life. Helena marvels at her hands, strong, almost golden in their luminescence, ready to serve the gods. "I am the light," she murmurs, and flies, breaking out of the shadows. But suddenly, hands! Hands are pulling her down!

"Dirty little devil," Captain Hendrix says. "No gods to serve. I can kill the light." Her eyes are black and her mouth is full of sharp, jagged teeth. Helena gasps and _fights,_ kicking, biting, scratching. She has to kill this demon. It is her purpose.

"The gods are with me," she says, and sinks the knife that had appeared in her hand into the officer's chest. Helena sees it has a flying fish on the handle. Picon. _Sarah._ Sarah is a flying fish. The gods have sent her to her twin; she is divine. Helena must protect her. Captain Hendrix is falling into the blackness below, blood seeping out of her mouth and clutching at the wound Helena had inflicted. "Darkness take darkness," the avenging angel says. "So say we all."

Helena opens her eyes. She is in her bunk. She rolls over, looking at her twin, who is snoring lightly. _She does not know she is of the gods,_ Helena thinks. _But through our connection, she will see their grace._ The blonde knows this to be true. She thinks about the message she had been sent in her dream. Captain Hendrix is a danger. Helena must be careful. Helena must be strong.

The determined woman gets up, grapping the razor from under her pillow and heading to the washroom. She will need better wings to guide her on her mission.

…

Captain Hendrix is in her quarters, sharing a drink with communications officer 2nd Lieutenant Aynsley Norris. It's cramped, and the two women are sitting close together. The bottle of wine between them is already half-gone.

"I don't know what to do with my new assistant," Alison says. "I liked it better when you worked with me, before you went and got promoted."

"I miss you too, Ali," Aynsley says warmly. "And the gossip we got to have more frequently back then."

The brunette cracks a smile. "I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about. Officers _never_ engage in such unprofessional things."

"No, of course not. But if they did, it'd be our little secret."

"Darn right." Alison pours herself another glass, and offers the bottle to Aynsley, who politely declines.

"Don't you think that's a bit much, Alison? I'm only concerned for you best interests."

"I'm fine." Alison waves her hand. _The wine keeps me from thinking about…about…_ She can't finish the thought. "Really."

Aynsley opens her mouth to argue when suddenly Felix bursts into the room. His face is white and shining with perspiration, and his hands are shaking as he hands Alison a paper. She's never seen him lose his blasé attitude like this.

"Captain Hendrix," Felix says. "I have urgent news. It concerns the whole fleet."

_The news must be dire if Felix remembered his protocol,_ Alison thinks, quickly reading the paper. She feels her heart speed up. "This is impossible. I can't accept this. Felix, where did you get this from? Tell me now!"

"It's from Commander Adama himself. It's all true. The cylons can look like us. And now everybody knows." There's no trace of a lie in his face.

"That's ridiculous," Aynsley says derisively. "By that logic, _I _could be a cylon."

"Anyone could be," Alison murmurs. "Anyone could be a spy." They could be spying on her—she studies the cylons. That could make her a target. There is no one she can trust. Alison's head is spinning. Her whole world is starting to fracture and the only person she can be sure of is herself. It could be a pilot. It could be an officer. It could even be her best friend.

"I need some time to consider this development," Alison says. "Felix, please escort Aynsley out."

"Yes, sir," Felix answers. He must be afraid if he's still not recovered his usual sass. The slender man exits with the lieutenant.

_Oh gods, oh gods,_ Alison thinks. _I need another drink._ Automatically, she reaches for the bottle of wine.

…

Tony sits on the toilet in the bathroom stall. It's the only place he can get any privacy at all. It's bad enough he has to time his showers for the middle of the night so that no one sees him. His crewmates all joke he must be a pig who never bathes. He wonders how long he can get away with this before someone stumbles in and finds out. No one on this ship knows Tony grew up named Antoniette. It's one of the things he likes about this job (he supposes another thing is that it saved his life).

The mechanic grimaces a little as he slides the needle into his thigh. It's Thursday, and that means it's shot day. "Hell or high water," he mutters to himself. "End of the world or not." But the end of the world means he has problems. Tony glances down to his bag. He figures he has no more than a year's worth of testosterone left. He sighs, and puts his head into his hands.

"Shit." _What am I going to do?_

…

Cal can feel the sweat beading at his temples as he approaches the target. Everyone's guards are up. Humanoid cylons had been spotted rolling in on a jeep. There's a blonde woman and a tall, muscular man. They haven't seen their make before. _How many of them are there?_ Shaking off his thoughts, Cal settles into position. Anders is prepared to take them out but the pair are covered by the van, and his first shot shatters the windshield.

"Damn," Cal curses. It's going to be a firefight now. The cylons are good, laying out cover fire so they can move to a better tactical position. Still, it doesn't take long until Anders has managed to get the male in his sights—until the woman surprises them all, popping up behind him. It's a three-way standoff now.

He has to help Anders. Cal and the rest of the resistance fighters circle around the trio. No one moves a muscle. They barely even breathe.

"We're not cylons," the blonde woman says.

Cal has his doubts, but they're vanishing the longer the pair of strangers talk. Could it really be true? Could other humans have survived? His head spins with the possibilities. For the first time, Cal Morrison feels like the future might hold just a little bit of hope. Now he only needs to get there.

…

Cosima sits at her lab table, pen between her teeth. She feels like she's hit a wall in her research. _What am I missing? _the scientist wonders. She'd finished sequencing her own genome the previous day, and is currently working on a tissue sample from the cylon Adama killed on Ragnar. So far, Cosima hasn't found any differences. The short woman sighs in frustration.

"Why don't you just take a break?" Delphine asks, putting her hands on Cosima's shoulders. The brunette leans back into her. "You could certainly use it."

"I just feel like I'm on the edge of something." Cosima gestures towards her lab supplies. "Maybe their DNA reacts differently to certain stimuli than our own does." She's thinking had, trying not to get lost in the feeling of Delphine against her back.

"Come to lunch with me," Delphine gives her shoulder a squeeze. "An hour won't hurt your research."

Cosima thinks. She _is_ hungry. And if she's being honest with herself, she wants to spend time with the blonde.

"Okay," she answers. "Yeah, I'd like to have lunch with you."

The other woman smiles and offers her a hand as she gets out of her chair. Cosima takes it. _It's not making me feel all tingly,_ she rationalizes. _She's just helping me up. _But is she imagining that Delphine held her hand a little longer than necessary?

Cosima is lost in her thoughts about her partner as they walk to the mess hall, and reflects that she probably isn't keeping up with their conversation very well.

"Yeah, um, I grew up on Caprica," she responds to Delphine's question. "What about you?"

"Viron. My parents were lawyers."

"Oh, that explains the way you talk."

"Excuse me?" Delphine looks affronted.

Cosima puts up her hands. "No, I didn't mean anything bad. I think it's cool. You've just got a little lilt to your speech, and you don't use contractions much. I like it, though." She smiles shyly.

Delphine smiles back. "I'm glad. I like that way that you are always talking with your hands."

"I've got no excuse for that," Cosima laughs, but then stops short. She's looking at two identical Viper pilots, save for their different hair colors. She'd heard they were twins…but could they be cylons? "Shit. How do I…" Cosima trails off. Looks like she'll be distracted at lunch, too.

…

"That woman has been staring at us," Helena says. "I do not trust her."

Sarah sighs. "Let it go, Meathead. I don't bloody well care what the scientist thinks."

Helena glowers, but doesn't say anything more. Sarah gets up to leave, and her twin makes to follow her.

"No, Helena. I've got to talk to someone. Privately."

"Why do you not want me there?"

"Because we're not joined at the hip, yeah? Come on, why don't you go make some friends or something. Gods know you could use a few."

Helena looks hurt, and Sarah feels a pang of regret. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Helena nods and leaves before she can. She'll make it up to her later. Frowning, the pilot turns on her heel and strides down the corridor, to the officers' quarters. Stopping at a door three-quarters of the way down, Sarah raps on it smartly.

"Major," she says, saluting. S may have raised her, but she'd been very clear that their relationship on the ship must be professional. Sarah owed her enough to respect that.

"Lieutenant," Major Sadler replies. "Please come in."

As soon as the door has closed, the senior officer's demeanor shifts completely. Her back becomes less ramrod straight, and she smiles at her foster daughter warmly.

"It's good to see you, Sarah."

"You too, S," Sarah answers. "It's been a while."

"Yes, things have been busy since the cylon attack. Here, have a seat and a cup of tea."

Sarah settles down and takes a sip. It's good, as always. "So what did you bring me here for?" she asks.

Siobhan Sadler gazes at the younger woman over the top of her cup, expression stony. "I wanted to talk…" she pauses. "…about Helena."

"Ah." Sarah had been half-expecting this.

"You and I both know she's not the most…stable. But your CAG saw fit to give her flight status anyway."

"She's been a good pilot," Sarah defends. "She always has my back."

"That's the problem, Sarah. She's obsessed with you. I think it could be dangerous."

Sarah pushes down what she had been planning to say. "I know, Siobhan. But what am I supposed to do? She's my_ sister._"

"I want you to keep an eye on her. If necessary, you can consider that an order."

"It's not." Sarah swallows. "I think she's been getting more fanatic about her religion stuff. I've been worried."

S sits back in her chair and steeples her fingers. "Could you take her down, if it came to it?"

"I don't know," Sarah answers. "And I hope I never have to find out."


	3. Chapter 3

Space is dark, and cold, and goes on forever. Sarah loves flying, but low-intensity solo missions always make her uneasy. It's too long to be alone with her thoughts. But whatever her personal opinions are, it's her turn to be on patrol around the fleet, looking for cylon scouts. The DRADIS is very accurate, but even it has its blind spots. The pilot may clash with her superior officers, but she always does her job.

Breathing deep through her nose, Sarah tilts her rudder and does another fly-by past Colonial One. Beyond its stern, she can see Galactica. Looking at the battleship, she's forced to think of what's happened the last few weeks.

Helena disappearing more and more, evading Sarah's questions when she'd asked where she was going. Being woken up at night by her twin yelling in her sleep, obviously in the grip of nightmares. Finding Helena's shrine in her locker, covered in crude stick figure drawings of women and gods. And more than anything else, the blonde is completely attached to her. Sarah's had to pry herself away from Helena again and again for any semblance of privacy. That part, at least, is a little familiar…

It was four years ago that Helena found her, one year before she went into the academy. Sarah was eighteen, brash and bold and always getting into trouble (that much hasn't changed, she supposes). She'd been walking down an alleyway when she'd felt the presence of someone behind her, and wheeled around.

"Oi! What d'you think you're doing, hey? I've got a knife."

A girl had stepped out of the shadows, and Sarah's stomach had dropped. They were _identical._

"I am your sestra. Do you remember me?"

"Helena…" Sarah's mouth was dry. "I thought you died on that cargo ship, like our mother."

"You were found by military. Someone else found me."

"Who?"

Helena stepped closer.

"I worked very hard to find you. I traveled to many planets. We are fated to be together. We have a connection." Helena's hand had cupped her face. "You feel it too."

Sarah couldn't move. "We need to see S," she had managed. "My foster mother. She can help us."

"I do not trust her," Helena had said. "But if you go, I will go with you."

The blonde had followed her out of the alley, and everywhere else since that day. When she'd learned Sarah was going into the academy, Helena somehow managed to gain admission too. Sarah still has no idea how her twin had gotten them onto the same battlestar, but imagines it had something to do with how well they flew together. It must have come from someone high-ranking, because Major Sadler had opposed it.

"She's dangerous, love," S had tried to warn her. Alone in the blackness of space, Sarah wonders if she should have listened more.

…

She's sent Felix on a mission to harass the Manning twins for their latest report logs, so Alison is alone in her work area. Running her fingers over one of her tactical screens, Alison reflects that sending Felix after Sarah means he'll be gone for a while, likely chatting with his sister about his uptight boss. The captain smiles. _Being alone is just what I want._ Felix seems too disinterested in her work to be a cylon agent, but she still doesn't want him to be there as she develops new encryptions, just to be safe.

Alison is in the process of coding the cypher when Aynsley drops by. The brunette jumps up, startled.

"Aynsley. What are you doing here?"

"Well hello to you too," the blonde replies. "I was in the area, so I figured I would drop in. What are you working on?"

Alarm bells go off in Alison's mind. "Nothing major," she says smoothly covering the papers she'd worked the encryption out on. "Just, uhm, some bureaucratic stuff. Why do you want to know?"

"Touchy today." Aynsley puts up her hands. "I was just curious." Despite her apologetic words, Aynsley steps closer. Alison steps back, in front of her computer terminal.

"Yes, well. I'm very busy. Don't you have a job to do?"

"I do. But I miss my old one."

_I bet you do,_ Alison thinks darkly. "I'm afraid I can't fraternize on the job today," she says instead.

Aynsley looks hurt, but quickly covers it. "Have they been cracking down on you? I guess I'll see you later, Ali." The officer watches her back as she exits, and theories begin to swirl in her mind. But proving them right, that's going to be a two-person job.

…

Felix furrows his brow as he walks down the corridor. Captain Hendrix had invited him for dinner. He may be puzzled, but he isn't about to turn down the better food the officers have access to. _Bloody military. Bloody bland meals. Gods, I miss Cloud Nine._ The slender man leans against the doorframe after he knocks. He's not standing on ceremony for a frakking dinner.

"Felix," Alison greets. "Please, come in." Felix blinks. Alison has tones of voice that aren't irritated?

"Captain Hendrix," he returns.

"You can call me Alison. We're off-duty."

"Alison." The name feels strange in his mouth. "Not that I'm complaining about this dinner, but why am I here?"

Alison closes the door behind him. "Sit down."

Felix sits, but raises an expectant eyebrow. Privately, he notes that even officers have the same uncomfortable chairs. Alison sits down across from him.

"Felix," she says, maintaining eye contact. "I need you to keep this a secret."

"Of course," he says automatically, shocked. _Captain Stick-up-her-arse is trusting __**me**__?_

"You told me last week that cylons could look like humans now. I think I've found one."

"You've what?!"

"I believe it's 2nd lieutenant Norris. I need you to help me prove it."

"She's your best mate," Felix protests. "Have you gone totally mad?"

Alison looks very serious. "She was. But I'm realizing she's always been nosy. Always been into my business. You're the only one I can trust with this."

"Why?" Felix is beyond shocked now. He's completely stupefied.

"At first, because you don't actually care about your job." Alison gives him a disapproving look. "But then I realized. Major Sadler raised you. There is no way you could be a cylon."

Felix snorts. "I still think you're bonkers. But say I go along with this. What do you expect me to do?"

"Watch," Alison says, "and listen. I need someone who can back me up."

The dark-haired man leans back in his chair. "Alright. I'll help you. But only because I want to watch this shipwreck close up."

"That's all I needed." Alison smiles. "Have another drink?"

…

Delphine walks into the lab, wrinkling her nose. There's a sweet, smoky scent to the air, unlike the usual antiseptic cleanliness of the room. Taking a few steps forward, she looks about the room cautiously. Has an experiment gone wrong?

"Hey," Cosima says, standing up from behind the counter, where she'd evidently been sitting. She seems slightly unsteady on her feet. "Delphine. Deeeeelphine. You have a nice name, you know that?" She takes a drag off the lit joint in her hand.

"Cosima. What is that?"

"Huh?" Cosima looks around. "Oh, this. Um, it's chamalla extract. But, like, seriously diluted. Totally safe."

"Chamalla?" Delphine gasps. "You are on _drugs?_"

"It helps me think," Cosima defends, tapping her head. "Opens my brain up to new possibilities, you know? Thinky things I wouldn't have thought." She giggles.

The blonde steps closer and grabs her partner's wrist. She's leaning in close enough to see that the other woman's pupils are dilated. "Cosima! You cannot do this!"

Cosima looks down, to where Delphine is holding her arm. "My skin sings where you touch it," she whispers. "Does yours?"

It's a stupid, _human_ question. So why can't Delphine tell her no?

"I—" she starts, before Cosima cuts her off with a kiss, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. The brunette's lips are soft but firm, and Delphine feels her own lips part. She brings a hand up to Cosima's face, before remembering—

"No!" Delphine backs away. "I, I cannot do this. I do not like…" _humans, _she desperately thinks. "I don't like…" She can't finish. She can't even say "you."

"Shit, oh shit, Delphine I'm sorry, I—I frakked up, I thought, I mean—" Cosima is coming closer, beseeching, and Delphine stumbles over herself turning away. Her pulse is racing. _I need to get away. I can't think. She—why can't I think?_

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Delphine throws over her shoulder, and half-runs out the door. Behind her, Cosima slumps to the floor, head in her hands.

"Stupid. So stupid."

…

Tony leans his head against the shower wall. It's Triad night at the mess hall, and as much as he enjoys a good card game, he appreciates the chance to shower not in the dead of night more. He tells himself he isn't lonely.

The mechanic clenches a fist as he looks down at the water running down his body. He'd been _so close._ He had saved a portion of his wages for years, and after next month he would have had enough for surgery.

"Frak!" he curses, slamming his hand into the stall door. "Frak," he repeats to himself, quieter, as he examines his freshly bloody knuckles. "Gods damn it."

"Hello?"

Tony feels his veins turn to ice. _No. Oh no no gods no._ As quietly as he can, Tony turns off the water, scarcely daring to breathe. He pushes himself flat against the wall, wet and naked and cold. _It won't do you any good, you poor sucker, _the small man thinks.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" the voice asks again. "I thought I heard a crash."

Instinctively, Tony crosses his arms. He can't be seen he can't be seen he can't be seen—the shame feels like bile in his throat. _It's over, it's all over._

"I must be losing it, " the voice says. "Too long on this frakking ship." Straining his ears, the mechanic can just barely hear the stranger leave. Shaking, Tony feels his knees buckle. He slides down to the shower floor.

"I can't keep doing this," he whispers. _It's only a matter of time…_

…

Cal is watching a heated discussion between Anders, Starbuck, Helo, and the cylon. _Sharon,_ he thinks disparagingly. _Like a thing like that even deserves a name._ Shortly, his commander and the female viper pilot walk away. Though he knows he shouldn't, Cal tries to listen in. "That's not why you came here," Anders says, handing Starbuck an arrow. "Go find Earth."

Cal sucks in a breath. _Earth._ A myth, a legend…could it be true? He forgets to listen to the rest of their conversation. _This is impossible._

"Cal!" Anders shouts. The freedom fighter jumps up. _Did he see me eavesdropping?_

"Anders?" he asks, trotting up and pretending not to notice the wetness in Starbuck's eyes.

"Cal. You always had my back in the game. I need you to have my back in this too. I need you to go with Starbuck, to the fleet."

"What? No, no, I can't leave," Cal protests, while at the same time Starbuck cuts in.

"Why not you? Anders, if someone is going—"

Anders puts up a hand. "It can't be me. The resistance down here still needs a leader. But I need someone to tell the fleet what's happening down here. I need them to know we're still alive. We're still fighting. I need you to go, Cal. And Kara, please, take him."

She looks unhappy, but Starbuck nods. Cal swallows. "I'll go. I'll let them know."

"Good," Anders says, and clasps his hand. "Thank you." He pulls Cal into him, pats him on the back. Cal does the same.

"We're still coming back to get you," Starbuck says.

"I know. Now go."

There's nothing more to say. Cal turns his back on his base, his _home._ Stepping into the raptor, he looks back one last time. It may have been hell, but they were all gonna die together. Now, Cal has to figure out how to live alone.

…

There's a rhythm in her heart, in her blood, in her fists as Helena lands punch after punch, one-two one-two, on the battered bag swinging on its chain. Even her breath matches up with each hit, in-out, in-out. Fight, or pain. Fight, or die.

They had taught her that, on Gemenon and then in the academy. "Space doesn't care if you live or die," her first instructor had said. Helena already knows this. She had disdained the other cadets. They had no singularity of purpose. They had no idea of the blackness they fought.

_They think it is the cylons,_ Helena thinks, but she knows better. _We turned from our gods. We worshiped science, and the robot men came, clank clank._ The cylons are only the gods' vengeance. The fleet's real enemy is hidden within.

"Captain Hendrix," Helena says, sinking her fist into the bag. "Dr. Niehaus." She is the light, and she has seen their darkness. It is in their eyes when they look at Sarah.

"Poor sestra," Helena hums. "She does not see." _But she will_. Helena will make her. It is divine. It is the truth.

"So say we all," and Helena kicks, and the bag skids to the floor. "So say we all."

…

A/N: Alright, here's where we start playing a little bit fast and loose with bsg canon. A good rule of thumb is that the show canon is left alone unless otherwise specified, but anything's game to change. Writing this chapter was a bit like pulling teeth, but I hope you all like the finished result :)


	4. Chapter 4

Helena has always been good at silence and hiding in shadows, something which unnerves her twin. _Sarah does not understand,_ Helena thinks. _I use this to protect us._ Hearing footsteps from down the hall, the blonde melts into a corner. It wouldn't do to be caught out of her bunk at this hour. And for all her secrecy, Helena has never been a good liar. Deceit is unholy.

The pilot holds her breath as the night guard passes her. Once he's gone, a smile escapes her face. _Security,_ she thinks. _Pah. _Helena knows the sweeps come around every half hour. She has more than enough time to complete her mission. Soundlessly padding down the corridor, she eyes the arms locker door. It's been much more protected since the theft of the bombs which blew up Galactica's water tanks.

The lock is electronic, requiring a nine digit code that only the arms master and three marines know. To get into the arms storage, even highly ranked officers must ask for their assistance. Helena closes her eyes. Yesterday, she'd been on security detail as Lieutenant Agathon had taken inventory. The blonde had been able to watch as the code was entered, scuffing her feet impatiently so as to appear casual.

Seven-nine-nine-zero-six-four-two-five-one, Helena enters, tongue between her teeth. The lock slides open with a click, and Helena steals into the room, shutting the door behind her. Bypassing the guns and bombs, she goes to the small chest of ceremonial weapons. A traditional blade for a holy mission is only appropriate. Pulling out a knife, Helena examines it. No, it's not quite right. Gleaming steel catches her eye. The pilot gasps. Engraved on the handle is a flying fish.

"I dreamed it, and it is so," Helena whispers. Reverently, she picks up the weapon and turns it over in her hands. The knife is so sharp it practically sings. Helena slips it into her bag. _Yes,_ she thinks. _The gods have seen me with smiles today._

…

Delphine turns over restlessly in her bunk. She doesn't technically _need_ sleep, but she is capable of it. Or at least, she should be. If she was a centurion, the scientist could just flip a switch and power down her system, but her humanoid biology is a little more complex than that.

"Frak," she curses, turning over. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees that kiss. Cosima drawing nearer, lips pressed to hers. Delphine's stomach flips. She touches a hand to her lips. The kiss was not unpleasant. In fact…

_I want to do it again,_ the cylon realizes. _I want to kiss that human again._ Delphine shakes her head, trying to clear it. She has a mission—sabotage human studies of cylons. _I would be more effective at my objective if we were closer,_ she justifies. _This could be my best course of action. It is a great opportunity._ Really, she could have hardly asked for a better situation. The fact that the possibility increases her heartrate means nothing. It is merely a flaw in her still imperfect form. Delphine is sure of it. It has nothing to do with Cosima's warm smile, or the way her touch lingers on the blonde's skin. Nothing to do with her infectious laugh or brilliant intellect. Absolutely nothing at all.

…

"Sarah," Starbuck had said to her. "I brought back someone from Caprica. He was a freedom fighter there, and I think he'd make a good pilot. Can you show him the ropes a little?"

"Yeah," Sarah had replied casually, intrigued despite herself. _A survivor from Caprica?_ "What's his name?"

"Cal."

_Cal,_ Sarah thinks, walking to the ready room. _Cal the freedom fighter. Bloody hell, I hope he's trainable._ After shouldering open the door, Sarah stops. _Shite_.

"Hi," the lean, bearded man says. "I'm Cal."

"You sure are," Sarah responds, and kicks herself mentally. "Uh, you sure are a little scruffy for the fleet, cadet." _Nice save, Manning. Gods._

"Uh, yeah," Cal says, touching his beard. "It was a little hard to find time to shave in the resistance."

Sarah nods. "You should be able to get that taken care of here. Have you ever flown before?"

"Not anything off-planet, no."

"Right. Well, we better get you to the simulator then."

"Sure," Cal says, smiling. "Great. Hey, I never caught your name."

"2nd Lieutenant Sarah Manning," the pilot replies, stomach definitely _not_ flipping slightly at his upturned lips. "But you call me sir as long as I'm training you."

"Yes, sir. Which way to the simulator?"

"I'll show you," Sarah says, shouldering past him. She can feel his body heat next to her. _Pull it together,_ she thinks. _Or you going to be in a whole __**world**__ of trouble._

...

Cosima's ducked behind her desk retrieving a fallen report when she hears the lab door open. Rising, she sees a familiar figure cautiously walking in.

"Delphine," Cosima breathes. "I thought you wouldn't come ba—to the lab today."

"Well our work is very important to me," Delphine says.

_Right, our work,_ Cosima thinks. _Just the work._

"I'm just, I'm really sorry," she begins, blood rushing to her face. "I, I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have been smoking in the lab, and you're not, you don't like girls. And you know, that's okay, that's great, and I am so sorry. I hope you can still work with me on the science stuff, you know as partners, I mean _lab_ partners, I—"

"Cosima," Delphine cuts off her rambling. "I've had time to think. About that kiss."

"Oh?" Cosima can't keep the hope out of her voice. _Don't go there, Niehaus…_

"Yes." The blonde looks down and bites her lip. "I was shocked, yes. But—but I think I may have liked it" she blurts out.

Cosima's jaw drops. "You liked it?"

"I think so. But there is only one way to be sure. You know, we are scientists, and empirical trials are the best way to get definitive results."

"Empirical trials." Cosima's mouth is dry, and suddenly the other woman is very close. "I can do that."

"Good," Delphine says, and kisses her. Her lips are warm and soft, both her hands cupping Cosima's face, and the brunette feels like she might just combust from the heat. She gasps, and Delphine slips her tongue into her mouth, stepping closer and standing flush against Cosima. The shorter woman doesn't know where to put her hands, not wanting to scare Delphine off, but the blonde lets out a slight moan and suddenly Cosima can't stop her hands from moving everywhere, memorizing the feel of Delphine's curves.

The pair break apart, gasping, and Cosima pants "Woah. Did you like—"

Delphine lunges forward and pulls her into another kiss, hands pulling her in possessively. Cosima lets herself be guided back onto the desk, and papers scatter to the floor, forgotten. The brunette removes her glasses, and thanks the gods for the lock on their lab door as she lets her hands trail lower down…  
…

"Okay, you remember the plan?" Alison whispers to Felix.

"Yes, Alison." Felix rolls his eyes. "You've got a data disk with a fake new encryption, I 'accidentally' drop it by Aynsley, and we see if she returns it right away or keeps it for a bit."

"And I'll watch to make sure she actually picks it up," Alison nods. Felix is surprised she didn't chide him for using her first name.

"Right then. Let's snap to it." Felix picks up the disk and slips it onto his clipboard. "Ta."

He walks towards Aynsley's office. _Time to practice my theatre best,_ he smiles to himself.

"Felix, take the disk," the slender man mutters to himself, imitating Alison's tone. "Felix, it's very important, it's a new encryption. Remember, this is high security. Be veeeeeery careful with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Felix sees Aynsley poking her head out of the door behind him. _Time to set the hook._ Shifting his arm a little, Felix lets the disk fall on the floor.

"Felix do this, Felix do that," he says to cover the noise of it falling. "Bloody officers." He turns the corner.

Alison is looking at him, jaw a little tense. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"Oh, oh no," Felix says quickly. "You're a little uptight, but you're not a bad boss."

"Oh. Good." Alison looks relieved. "She took the bait. Now we just have to wait."

"You're a poet, Captain," Felix laughs. "A paranoid, planning poet."

Alison shakes her head, but walks with Felix back to her office.  
…

Tony looks at the broken tabletop centrifuge, furrowing his brow. "Jeez, sister, how'd you break this?"

"Uh," Dr. Niehaus stutters. "We, uh, we were just, um—"

"Being a little too clumsy," Dr. Cormier smoothly finishes. "Thank you for helping us fix it."

Tony looks at the pair of them. The dark-haired woman is bright red and blondie looks a little flushed. He smirks.

"That's my job. You might want to be more careful in your future…experiments, though."

Tony didn't think it was possible for Dr. Niehaus to go redder, but apparently he was wrong. "Yes. We'll be more careful. Totally. Very careful."

Turing back to the centrifuge, Tony frowns. The damn thing really is jammed.

"Frak!" he swears, cradling his freshly cut hand. "Damn rotor!"

"Let me see it," Dr. Cormier says, moving forward. "I was originally trained as a medical doctor. It's Cosima who has the specialty in evolutionary biology."

"It's not that bad," Tony protests, but gives her his hand anyway.

The doctor examines it closely. "This needs stiches. Cosima, could you get the medkit?" Dr. Cormier looks back at him. "I hope you are not afraid of needles."

"Really not a problem," Tony says, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it." Still, he grits his teeth a little bit as Dr. Cormier deftly cleans and stiches the wound.

"There you go," she says, giving him back his hand.

"Thanks, Dr. Cormier," Tony replies.

The woman laughs. "Please, call me Delphine."

"I feel just terrible about your hand. It's kinda our fault," Dr. Niehaus says. "Can we like, get you a drink for your trouble? Oh, and you can call me Cosima, too."

"Well I never turn down a drink." Tony grins. "Guess I've got a date with you lovely ladies."

The scientists laugh, and Tony turns back to the centrifuge. He's still got to fix the damn thing, after all.  
…

Cal strokes his freshly shaven chin, and shakes his head, not used to the long hair being gone. He misses his beard, but military regs are military regs, or so Sarah had said.

_Lieutenant Manning,_ he corrects himself. _Or, sir._ He smiles. Try as she might, Cal had seen a few cracks in her hardass drill sergeant persona. She'd almost seemed sad when she told him to lose the beard. But even if she might have a soft spot, Cal had to admit that Sarah was a hell of a pilot. He had felt graceless next to her as he'd fumbled through the drills.

"Keep practicing, cadet," Sarah had said, and put a hand on his shoulder. "The harder you work, the less likely you are to die." Despite her callous words, her hand had lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary.

Sarah Manning is definitely a puzzle. And Cal's always liked seeing how all those pieces fit together. Truth be told, Cal's glad to be distracted from thinking about his comrades on Caprica. _We'll go back and get them,_ he thinks. _Me and the whole damn fleet._


End file.
